A Little Gratitude
by Shorina
Summary: Joyce Barnaby thinks not all is well between her husband and his Sergeant and is determined to help. SPOILER WARNING for "Blood on the Saddle"!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Except from Jonas, all characters are only borrowed from their owners. I promise to return them safely!

*****SPOILER WARNING*****

This story contains spoilers for the Midsomer Murders episode _"Blood on the Saddle"_. You have been warned!

* * *

Ben Jones stares at the bill on the counter and winces slightly. "You're kidding me, right? _That much_ for two suits?"

"Sorry, Mr. Jones. Additional rush service fee."

Shaking his head, Ben takes out his wallet and hands a bill over to the young man manning the counter of the dry cleaner's. The doorbell chimes, but it barely registers on his mind.

"They don't pay me enough for this," he says, grumbling, and lifts his foil wrapped suits over his arm.

"Oh, hello Ben," the newcomer greets him. "They don't pay you enough for what?"

He turns in surprise and finds himself face to face with Joyce Barnaby. "Morning, Mrs. Barnaby. I was just..." He accepts his change from the young man and pockets it. When he looks back at her she is obviously waiting for him to continue. "I just... had to come here too often lately. It's getting costly."

"Oh, yes, I suppose it can. I'm glad Tom doesn't need to have his suits cleaned too often." She hands over a slip to the young man. "I'd like to pick this up, Jonas."

"Of course, Mrs. Barnaby." He vanishes in the back of the shop, leaving the two customers alone.

While Joyce has been talking to Jonas, Ben has done his his best not to sigh or groan. "I've got to run, Mrs. Barnaby, your husband will probably be waiting for me already," he says when Jonas has left.

"Oh, sorry, don't let me keep you, Ben. Have a good day."

He nods in response, it is the best he can manage right now. "You, too." And with that he is out of the door.

Joyce looks after him, slightly puzzled at the quick get-away of the otherwise always polite and friendly Sergeant. "Now he must have gotten up on the wrong foot," she says to no one in particular.

"Here's the suit, Mrs. Barnaby," Jonas announces upon his return and lays out the clothing on the counter.

"Ah, thank you, Jonas. Say, do you know what got into Ben? He did seem a bit grumpy."

"Mr. Jones? He didn't really say anything, but he's become a good customer lately. Brings in a lot of really dirty suits. Those two he just picked up? One covered in soot, the other in mud. Isn't he a detective like your husband? I never knew that included getting so much dirt on your suit."

"No, it doesn't for Tom... anyway, what do I owe you?"

"8 pounds, please, Mrs. Barnaby."


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday is market day in Causton and thankfully also Ben's day off. For once he's even got the whole weekend off; unless someone commits another murder, that is. He hopes it doesn't come to that, for the sake of the potential victim as much as for his own. Their latest case left him a bit shaken, even though he wouldn't admit it or show it in front of his boss, DCI Tom Barnaby.

Ben is on his way to his car from the dry cleaner's, where he picked up another cleaned suit. No rush service this time, thank you. He's spending enough on having his suits cleaned as it is and so far his other suits have managed to stay clean.

"Oh, hello Ben. We meet quite often lately, don't we?"

Joyce Barnaby approaches from the doorway of a small shop to his left.

He stops and turns towards the voice. "Good morning, Mrs. Barnaby. It does seem that way."

Joyce eyes the suit he's carrying draped over his arm. "Another one? What are you doing with them?"

He doesn't want to go there, so he tries for a joke. "I wear them."

She smiles dutifully. "Yes, you would. But from my experience, suits don't need cleaning that often from regular wearing."

Ben sighs slightly. "I must be doing something wrong then." He eyes the road ahead, he can make out his car in the line of parked vehicles just about 200 meters away. How he'd love to be in it and get away from this conversation.

Joyce cocks her head slightly. "Is something wrong, Ben?"

"No," he says a bit too quickly. He knows it's a lie, but Joyce Barnaby is the last person he wants to discuss the matter with. Well, maybe the second last.

"You know," Joyce says, "I was just thinking about a nice hot cup of coffee. Why don't you join me? I hate sitting in the café all alone. If you're not in a hurry again, that is. But I think Tom and you both have the day off?"

Ben's mind frantically looks for a getaway. Isn't there something he really needs to do? Something urgent? But as so often in situations like this, nothing comes to mind.

"I... well, no, I'm in no hurry. Just let me put this into the car." He raises his arm with the suit, as if 'this' could have been anything else. He's not carrying anything else.

"Of course, where are you parking?"

"Just up the road." He nods in the direction of his car.

"Perfect, I've been meaning to try out the small café that opened on the market square last month." She smiles at him encouragingly.

Ben can tell he's been caught at his lie, Joyce Barnaby is not just any woman after all, she's the wife of his boss and just as perceptive about these things as her husband. She must know him well enough by now to know something is up. And Ben knows her well enough to be certain that he won't get away from this. So in his mind he tries to come up with the nicest way to say what has been bothering him lately.


	3. Chapter 3

The same evening, Tom Barnaby is comfortably lounging on his couch, reading the newspaper.

"I met Ben again today," Joyce says.

"Oh, that's nice," Tom replies from behind his newspaper.

"Tom?"

"Yes, love?" He still doesn't put the newspaper down.

"Is there something you want to tell me about your last case? The end maybe?"

This makes Tom lower his newspaper and peer at his wife over the rim of his reading glasses. "And why are you so interested in this one case?"

"Were you ever going to tell me that you nearly got yourself shot?"

"Oh, but I didn't get shot."

"Which was a bit of a bold venture, apparently."

"I don't know what Jones, I suppose it was him, told you, but as you can see, I am here. I am fine and I am trying to read my newspaper." He lifts it up again and vanishes from Joyce's sight.

"Tom!"

"Yes, love?"

"Put that newspaper down. I'm trying to talk to you."

Tom sighs, but complies. "I don't know what there is to talk about. It was a case, we solved it, everything's fine."

"No, it's not."

Tom looks himself up and down as if to prove a point. "I am fine."

"And it's not your merit that you are, is it? It's Ben's."

"I'd call it a combined effort."

"He had to shoot at that Billy the Kid character to save you! I don't call that a combined effort."

"It was my plan."

"It was a stupid plan. You could have gotten both of you killed!"

"Did Jones say that?"

"I am saying it."

"You weren't there."

"Tom!"

He makes a calming gesture. "All right, and what do you suggest I should have done? He called me out."

"The way I heard it, he called Wyatt Earp out, not you."

"Yes, he did. But he meant me."

"That man was delusional!"

"Why are you getting so worked up about it? Everything is fine. The plan worked."

"You just trust that Ben does all the dirty work for you, don't you? Now you even had him shoot at someone."

"He's a police officer. It's his duty to serve and protect."

"Tom! He's a detective like you, not an armed forces officer."

"I am aware of that."

"But you still made him do it."

"And he did well. It was a very fine shot. Just grazed Burbage's arm so he dropped the gun." He points his hand to mimic the shot. But inside Tom is really irritated by now. He can understand that Joyce worries about him, it's why he didn't tell her about the 'shoot-out' in the first place. But somehow the focus of this discussion seems to have shifted to his Sergeant by now and he's not sure, why.

"That's not the point."

"Well then, what is?"

"It's about how you're treating him!"

"What?"

Joyce hesitates. "Don't hold this against him, I had to pry it out of him, he never would have told you himself."

"Told me what?"

"That you're using him. Make him do the dirty work."

"He's the junior officer for God's sake!"

"And you can't say thank you to your junior officer when he gets dirty again because you can't wait for a colleague with a protective suit?"

Tom looks baffled. How did they end up discussing his Sergeant's dirty clothes from where they started?

"Just because Ben is your junior partner doesn't mean you have to forget your manners, Tom!"

"I do _not_ forget my manners. I _thanked_ him for his good shot."

"Oh yes, he remembers it because it's such a rare thing for you to say."

"He told you that?"

"Yes."

"And what questioning did you have to put him through to make him say it?"

"That's not the point here."

"Oh, but it is. You're accusing me of forgetting my manners when it comes to my Sergeant but you question him!"

"Because he wouldn't have said a word otherwise!"

"Because it's not a big deal."

"You just take his loyalty for granted."


	4. Chapter 4

Monday morning Ben is busy with paperwork when Tom Barnaby walks into the office.

"Good morning, Jones, Stevens."

"Morning, Sir." Ben looks up for a second or two to greet his boss and turns back to his paperwork.

"Good morning, Sir, how was your weekend?" Gail Stevens asks.

"There have been better ones, Stevens."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she replies. When the DCI doesn't offer any further insight, she turns back to her own desk.

"I met Mrs. Barnaby the other day," Ben states a while later when he's done with his reading.

"Yes, I know,"is the DCI's court reply.

_'Well, of course you do. Why do I bother telling you anything? You know everything long before me, anyway.'_

"Had I known we're using same dry cleaner's, you could have saved her a trip the other day and picked up my suit, too."

Ben decides his attempt at small talk has failed miserably and doesn't respond. It's enough that his boss is chasing him around like mad on the job, he really doesn't need a second job as Tom Barnaby's runner in his increasingly spare free time, too. He hears a faint giggle from behind himself, Stevens! He ignores her, too, and picks up another file someone dumped on his desk.

"Oh, by the way, I hope you don't have any plans for tonight, do you?"

Ben looks back up questioningly. "Well, no..."

"Good, because Mrs. Barnaby insists on inviting you over to dinner."

Something in the look Tom Barnaby bestows upon him makes Ben wonder how unpleasant this invitation might turn out to be.

"Seven thirty all right with you?"

"Uhm, yes, Sir."

"Good."


	5. Chapter 5

At lunch time, Ben and Gail go to the canteen together. They choose a quiet table in a corner and put down their coffees and sandwiches.

"You didn't seem very happy about the dinner invitation. I thought you got along real well with the Barnabys. Is everything all right, Ben?"

Ben looks away for a moment, wondering how much he should tell Gail. He looks back at her and decides she's the closest thing to a friend he's got on the force so he might just as well tell her.

"I think Mrs. Barnaby is up to something. She's caught me complaining about the cost of having my suits cleaned a couple of days ago, then we met again when I had just picked up another one from the dry cleaners and she sort of cornered me, started asking questions."

Gail giggles a little. "She's been married to a policeman for too long?"

Her giggle is slightly infectious and Ben finds himself grinning at her. "Probably. Now what does that predict for our future relationships? Anyway, she dragged me into that café on the market square and asked all sorts of questions. She's just as good at interrogating people as the DCI is, Gail."

"Ouch, that thought makes me feel sorry for you. What did she want to know?"

"Well, for example why I seemed to have so many more dirty suits than her husband and why I had been complaining about it... she just kept digging until I had told her the boss loves to command me around to do... let's call it 'the dirty work'. Which often, if we'd ever do anything by the book, would be the task of socos or forensics. Like just recently when he made me step into that fireplace to feel around in the chimney. You saw how dirty I got. And no, of course I wasn't allowed to get changed, I had to make do with wet-wipes." He stops himself just in time before he rolls his eyes at the injustice.

"I hope you didn't use them on your suit."

"No, of course I didn't. But there have been so many examples of when I do all the dirty work. And when she said that the her husband must be real grateful for my loyalty and dedication, I fear I said something along the lines of there not being any sign of gratitude apart from when I saved his life."

"The 'shoot-out' the other day? From what I heard it seemed to come straight out of a western on the big screen."

"Not quite, on the big screen we'd have had more than one real bullet. Or he'd have had blanks like us, depending on how you look at it."

Gail laughs but soon turns serious. "The boss took quite a gamble, relying on your shooting abilities."

"Well, only to some extent. I've taken part in a firearms training course when my second application for promotion to CID was rejected. I had been considering going in that direction instead, so I'm not such a bad shot. But I had never handled an old revolver like that one and believe me, shooting on the range doesn't give you any idea of the pressure in a real situation."

"I'm impressed, I didn't know that you had had firearms training. And you must have done really well out there, I've seen that Burbage character brought in for interviews with his arm in a sling."

"Yeah, well, we were kind of lucky that it worked out so well, I really wasn't prepared for it. But the firearms training is in my file of course, so the boss knew about it. The thing about all this is, he hadn't told Mrs. Barnaby about the shoot-out. She went all pale when I told her I had to save her husband's life."

"Ouch."

"Yup."

Gail remains quiet for a long moment and sips some coffee from her mug. "So you think Mrs. Barnaby told her husband everything you said and now he's pissed?"

Ben stares out of the window for a moment before answering. "Actually, to some extent, so am I. Until she started bugging me about it, I had never really thought about what he all takes for granted." He looks back at her. "So, no, I'm not very much looking forward to this evening. I fear it might get... ugly. And then I have to be back here tomorrow and work with him as if nothing ever happened." He picks up his sandwich and looks at it, then puts it back down and shoves his plate away. "Actually, I'm not very hungry."

Gail looks up at him from her coffee, sympathy shining from her eyes. "However it goes, if you need to talk you know I'll listen, right?"

He offers her a weak smile. "Yeah, I know. Thanks."


	6. Chapter 6

The clock in his car shows 7:28pm when Ben pulls up outside the Barnabys' house. He has changed out of his suit into jeans and pullover, knowing formal attire isn't required on these occasions. It's not the first time he's been invited to his boss's house, but this time he has a bad feeling about the evening ahead.

He takes a deep breath and gets out of his car.

Joyce Barnaby answers his ring at the door. "Hello Ben. I'm glad you could make it." She ushers him in. "Tom's in the living room, why don't you join him? Dinner will be a couple more minutes."

He smiles at her politely. "Thanks for the invitation, Mrs. Barnaby."

"You're very welcome, Ben." She gently shoves him in the direction of the living room and calls over his shoulder. "Tom? Ben is here!"

"Ah, Jones, come on in. Anything to drink?" Tom Barnaby gets up from the couch he's been sitting on.

"No, thank you. I'm fine. And I'm driving anyway."

"All right. Take a seat."

Ben does and an uncomfortable silence fills the room. Usually they easily chat about anything that comes to their minds, but today neither of the men seems to be able to come up with a topic.

Finally, Ben clears his voice. "I suppose Mrs. Barnaby told you about our chat the other day?"

"Oh yes. Yes, she did."

Ben nods, trying to read the expression on his boss's face. "I didn't know you hadn't told her..."

"No, you wouldn't have known."

"I'm sorry she heard it from me."

Tom shrugs. "Well, it all worked out, so..." He doesn't finish the sentence and silence falls once again.

"Does Cully know?" Ben asks after a while.

"Cully? Why?"

"She occasionally sends me an email and I don't want to spill anything to her I shouldn't."

"Oh, does she? I didn't know that. And no, she doesn't know. At least I think she doesn't, unless Joyce called her and told her."

"I'll not mention it then."

"I'd appreciate it."

"Right."

Again the silence stretches out between them until Joyce calls from the kitchen.

"Tom?"

"Yes, love?"

"Can you lend me a hand, please?"

"I'll be right there!" He gets up from the couch and turns to Ben. "I suppose that means dinner will be ready any minute now."

Ben simply nods.

In the kitchen Joyce points to the cupboard. "Set the table, please?"

Tom turns to the cupboard and opens the doors. Before he can even take some plates out, Joyce comes up behind him.

"Did you speak to him?" Her voice is hushed.

"Of course I spoke to him. It'd be rude not to say a word to him all the time you keep us waiting." He turns to her, three plates now in his hands.

"Oh, Tom. You know exactly what I mean."

Tom walks past her and begins to set the table. "For heaven's sake, will you finally let it go? He's just doing his job. There is nothing to talk about."

Joyce is back at the stove now, tasting the sauce before she throws her husband an accusing look. "You can't be serious, Tom."

Before Tom can answer, Ben appears in the doorway. "Anything I can help with?"

Joyce's expression immediately changes back to a smile. "You really don't have to, Ben, you're our guest tonight."

Tom apparently thinks different and passes some cutlery from a drawer on to Ben. "Let him make himself useful, Joyce."

"Tom!"

"I'm glad to help, Mrs. Barnaby."Ben takes the cutlery. "I was getting a bit bored on my own anyway," he adds with a sheepish smile.

Tom offers Joyce a triumphant look behind Ben's back.

A couple of minutes later, they're all seated at the table, enjoying the roast. Food seems to pour oil on troubled water as for the first time of the evening, the silence doesn't feel cold and hostile. Both Ben and Tom praise the roast and Joyce seems happy enough to watch the two men tuck into the meal.

Slowly, small talk evolves, starting with safe topics like the weather or the new play Cully just got a part in.

"That was the best roast I've had in a long time, Mrs. Barnaby," Ben says when his plate is empty.

"Thank you, Ben. It was the least I could do to thank you for taking such good care of Tom."

Tom rolls his eyes, unseen by Joyce but right in Ben's line of vision and Ben can't help but chuckle. That, of course, makes Joyce turn to her husband, who looks totally innocent again by now.

"I totally agree with Ben, the roast was wonderful, love."

Joyce looks at him for a couple more seconds before turning back to Ben, who dutifully wiped the grin off his face again. "Oh, Ben. I think Tom wanted to tell you something. Didn't you, Tom?"

Tom didn't, that much is obvious from the pained expression on his face. But he quickly recovers. "Yes, you're right, love. I did."

Ben looks from Tom to Joyce and back to Tom. If he didn't dread this change of topic so much, the situation would be quite amusing.

"Well, go on then, I'll get the pudding."

"Oh, let me do that for you." Tom is on the verge of getting up, but Joyce is quicker and keeps him on his chair by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll get the pudding, you," she gives Tom a stern look, "talk."

When her back is turned to the two men, Ben tries hard not to feel pity for his boss. The older man's unease is obvious.

"Yes," Tom says, just to stall time, "what I meant to say is..."

"Sir, there's no need... ," Ben starts, his pity for his boss getting the better of him, but Joyce interrupts him.

"There is, Ben. Let him finish."

Tom sits a bit straighter in his chair. "What I meant to say is, I'm glad my first impression of you was correct."

Ben tries not to laugh out loud. He had known where this would be going, it had been obvious from everything that had happened the last days. And this statement offered to him now seems such a typical way for Tom Barnaby to make a compliment. "So am I, Sir," he offers in return and suddenly their understanding is there again. This one sentence by Tom Barnaby set everything right, they both know it when their eyes meet.

Joyce returns to the table. She hasn't seen the silent communication that passed between the two men. "Tom!" She starts but then she, too, notices the change in the atmosphere and shakes her head, smiling. "You two totally deserve each other."

Again, Tom and Ben exchange a knowing glance. "You are right as always, love."

Quite a while later, Ben says his good byes to his hosts. Joyce hugs him, Tom claps him on the back and they all smile at each other.

Tom puts his arm around Joyce's shoulders when they watch Ben walk to his car and drive off.  
"I still think all of this was totally unnecessary," Tom says casually and it earns him a playful slap on his arm from Joyce.

"Sometimes you're terrible, Tom Barnaby."

He bends over to kiss her.

Back home, Ben sends the shortest text of his life to Gail. ":)"


End file.
